Wasted Time
by theory of mice
Summary: Our breathing aligns, our fingers mesh, and the sun trades its warmth for our time – a foolishly expensive trade, but I've made worse. For now, I can trick myself into believing we might come out of this together if we never stop wasting time together. Gale and Katniss find love without the 74th reaping. AU


Hello all!

I have a neat little story for you here. It will span several chapters, the majority of which I have written. Because I'm too lazy to properly write the first few "boringly explanatory" chapters to this, here's a little background for you:

Essentially, Mrs. Everdeen has died quite suddenly from a fever, leaving Katniss and Prim at risk of losing their home and being sent to the community home. So our good and handsome Gale steps in and offers to "marry" Katniss (only on paper, of course) in order to provide them a home and income (the District won't delegate houses to anyone under eighteen who isn't working a job, nor any woman unless she is the widow of a deceased minor). He promises that they will still remain friends, but secretly hopes she will fall as hard for him as he has for her. The basis of the plot was greatly inspired by the story _Falling Slowly_ by Loreleieve. Go read it if you want a better understanding of what I'm going for!

Here are the ages of everyone, 'cause it can get confusing:  
Gale, 19 Katniss, 17 Rory, 14 Prim, 13 Vick, 11 Posy, 4

Let me know if you have any ideas plotwise/scene-wise that you'd like to see! I'm always grateful for the inspiration and happy to please!

Much love,

theory of mice

* * *

A week after Katniss' seventeenth birthday finds us on a three-day hunt. We haven't been able to devote much time to the woods since Mrs. Everdeen's death. The burial, nuptials, house arrangements and extra school days for the kids (making up for the schoolhouse fire brought on by the early spring heat wave) have taken up precious time and energy. After having gone through most of our back stores, Katniss and I planned a longer hunt that would allow us to track down larger game deep into the forest. When we get there, though, we find ourselves alone. The animals have left. No doubt the extreme heat has driven many animals to the mountains or to hide underground, away from view and impossible to track in the hard, packed dust. We keep to the rivers instead, netting fish, beavers, and fowl, processing them during the night, and getting up early the next morning to repeat the process.

On the final day, we fill our bags with just enough for our family dinner that night and nothing extra to sell or trade. Under the glare of the sun, our stamina and patience are tested, and though it gives Katniss an ethereal glow of sweat, I can sense her resolve weakening with every dead-end trail we come across.

The heat smothers every sound except the whirring of cicadas, and the gravel in my throat makes it hard to project. "Katniss." She keeps trekking, eyes down, sweat dripping down her nape. "Katniss." She slows and turns one ear back towards me, never taking her eyes off the prints in front of her. "We should turn back. We won't get anything more today."

Though she continues onward, her gait slackens as she considers my proposal. Finally, she drags her feet to a stop. "Okay," she murmurs, matching the cicadas in tone and volume. She brushes past me on the narrow path, and the scent of her, maple-y sweet and intensely green, touches me in every perfect place. It is all I can do to follow dazedly behind.

We go straight home, eager to wash ourselves of the slick layers of sweat and dust accumulated over the hunt. The heat has swollen our tongues and we don't speak despite touching shoulders as we walk side by side.

Katniss wastes no time in stripping when we open the door. She flings her game bag onto the table and yanks her boots off without undoing the laces.

"I'll get water," she says over her shoulder, walking out to the pump.

"I'll start on the game." I let Katniss claim the first dip in the bath water. I wouldn't mind bathing in her scent.

A few trips in and out of the house fills the wooden bath basin, and I try my best not to visualize her shimmying out of her pants and top as I sit on the back steps cleaning the squirrels and pigeon. "A man is a man," my father told me once, "You can't change the way he thinks." I hardly believe he was giving my eight-year-old self sexual advice on how to tackle the purity of my best-friend-suddenly-turned-wife, but I find his teachings hardly helpful in the moment. The task of cleaning and plucking is over much too quickly, but I can't bring myself to skin the squirrels. Katniss is much better than me, and the size of the animals is unforgiving of any slips or mishaps. I'll leave them for her.

Walking back to the bedroom to fetch a change of clothes, I glance unthinkingly at the bathroom, expecting the door to be closed and latched. Instead, the wooden jamb frames a captivating view of her bare back, delicately curved, exposing the intricate knobs of her spine and ribs as she bends over to wash her legs. Before I can look away, she stands, still oblivious to my presence, and wrings the ends of her hair. The evening sun plays with her bronzed skin, glowing on every round and swell. The water trickles down the planes of her shoulders and collects sweetly in the twin dimples at the base of her spine, just above…

She turns, putting in perfect silhouette the gentle curve of breasts crowned with dark pips as she steps gingerly out of the tub. Reaching for the tattered towels hanging from nail heads, she turns her head slightly and notices my presence. Her breath catches noticeably as she wrenches a towel in front of her and stands stock-still, waiting.

I've seen Katniss scared before, in rare moments of helpless vulnerability such as when her mother died. The dilated ebony of her pupils that threatened to spill over into her grey irises and the way she somehow shrunk as she hugged her knees to her chest haunted me for days, eventually driving me to the plan that led to our current predicament: our marriage as a way to keep herself and Prim out of the community home and in possession of a house.

It's those previous vulnerable moments which allow me to recognize that Katniss is not afraid, merely startled if her paralyzed form and wide-eyed stare is any indication. Hopefully, she distinguishes my own stunned expression as one of shocked attention, rather than shameless thirst. I'll admit it seems to be a bewildering combination of the two feelings, but I think the sight of a glistening Katniss Everdeen in the nude is enough to make any man hard. I've known plenty of men's heart strings (and… other strings) to be pulled while Katniss is fully dressed and muddied, mine included.

I hesitate a second too long before stammering, "S-sorry, I was just walking past and… the door…"

Katniss breaks our gaze and looks down to the side, wrapping the towel more securely around her body. "I didn't think you'd be in yet," is all she admits in a whisper. She gnaws on her bottom lip uncomfortably while we stand still locked in our uneasy confrontation.

"I, uh, I should get my things." I turn and begin to walk into the bedroom, but Katniss' voice reaches a vice-like hand to my shoulder and invokes a visceral hope within.

"Gale."

I look back, half-expecting her to have armed herself, aiming for my throat. What she does is worse. Taking in a shuddering breath, she steps forward, staring at her hand knotting the towel at her breast. She opens her mouth, struggling with words, fighting an intense inner battle before she lets out a forceful gasp of air. Then she looks up and traps my eyes in hers.

"I'm sorry, Gale."

At first, I'm surprised by her words, but the look she gives me is one of penitential remorse, and I understand. I'm filled with a sudden rush of angst at the reminder of my promise to her, that our marriage would be purely contractual, that I wouldn't expect or ask anything "marital" of her, that we would still be "just friends". Of course I promised her that. And of course, naively, I anticipated her to fall recklessly in love with me, just as I had with her. But her apology confirms her indifference, even months later. Months of sleeping excruciatingly close beside her in bed every night, but never touching, never suggesting, never pressing. Months of seeing her in the morning, asleep and unaware of how tantalizing the sun looks playing in her fly-aways, of feeling her press up against me unconsciously during the night, of turning and finding her parted lips a finger's length from mine, of falling asleep with her hot breath on my neck every night.

I spit out my forgiveness, "It's fine. It's not what I promised you."

Again, she catches me before I walk away. "It's not fine. It's not fair."

This time, I don't turn around. I'm too weak-willed in this subject to argue with her, whatever her point may be. "Kat," I murmur, closing my eyes against the temptation to look at her again, dripping still from the bath, eyelashes heavy and dark with damp.

"You don't deserve it, you don't deserve _me_. It's not…" A sob of desperation creeps into her voice, "You could have had any other girl, and she would have been happy. _You_ could have made her happy. But you can't make me happy, Gale." I hear the creak in the wood as she steps towards me. "I didn't… I don't know how to do _this_. I wasn't made for this, for any of it. I'm sorry," she puts a hand on my arm and it's as if a spring flies. Suddenly I have her by the wrist and opposite shoulder, pressing her against the hall wall, face inches from hers.

"Stop. Please. Just stop." I'm trembling, whether with rage or passion or fright, I don't know. The tears threatening to overflow her lower lashes just seconds before have dried from astonishment at my impulsive behavior. We're both panting with pent-up emotion. Her eyes, which I could always read even when everything else was indecipherable, are so intensely emotionally conflicted that I have to look away. "I made my decision. I wanted to help."

I feel her tense beneath me, rage boiling in her blood and clattering against her teeth like a pot's lid bouncing from the roiling water.

"Don't _touch_ me!" She rips herself from my grasp and backs away. Again, I am left confused, bewildered, unsure of where or when or how this fight started. I stare at her again, almost amused at our bipolar performance.

"We don't need your charity. We would've been just fine without you."

I smile scathingly, crossing my arms over my chest. "Oh, right. You and Prim would've been just fine at the community home. You would've had all _manner_ of men touching you there. Especially Prim. I doubt they've ever had a blondie there. They'd probably never leave her alone. In fact, I bet –"

"STOP IT! STOP! You don't know what you're saying."

She has her fists beating against my chest, my head, my arms – anywhere she can access. It's a furious onslaught of unspeakable rage, lasting perhaps ten seconds until she wears herself out completely and shoves me hard in the chest before collapsing against the wall, forehead resting forlornly on the smooth oak panels. I can't tell if her body heaves in violent waves of grief or exhaustion. Her towel has come loose in the battering and the dark halo around her nipple peaks over the frayed edge.

We both stay in our respective positions, watching the other warily for signs of any further strikes to the heart. When the smoke finally clears, Katniss is the first to move, getting up wearily from the floor and giving me a wide berth as she steps into our room and closes the door. It's only when I get to the bathroom that I realize I never retrieved my fresh clothes. I sigh and dip a wash rag into the water to wash my face, but it smells like Katniss, so I wash off at the pump. When I come inside, Katniss is at the sink skinning the squirrels. She doesn't look up, but says, "We need to leave."

I keep walking, and answer, "Let me get a shirt."

* * *

The walk over to my former house is utterly silent and devoid of eye contact. I'm left to reminisce on old memories of my parents fighting, the ways they dealt with it and how they strove to hide it from us children as best they could. We're ten houses from my own when I say her name.

"Katniss."

Her voice is hard and cold. "Don't. Not here."

I'm hurt that she thinks I would continue our fight in the streets, much less in front of our families. My tone is unapologetically sarcastic. "Trust me. I'm not."

She looks back angrily, nostrils flared.

"Listen," I say, looking hard into her eyes, "What's between us stays between us. It isn't for the kids."

She softens visibly at this before her eyes go steely with determination. She nods once. "Fine."

I'm not so naïve that I think we can fool Rory. Ma will know the instant we step inside. And with Prim coming home tonight, it's inevitable that she catch snippets of our quarrel. But Vick and Posy are still innocently young, and that is worth preserving just a few years longer.

Katniss opens the screen door and steps inside where she is barraged by Posy's delighted screams of, "Kitty!" She draws the crowds, Vick and Ma, Prim running from the living room, Rory acting pubescantly uninterested.

I catch Posy in my arms and raise her high, smiling for the first time today at her shrieks and giggles. I hear Prim collapse into Katniss and spot a kiss grace her golden locks.

"How was the hunt?" Prim asks eagerly, peeking into the game bag Katniss is carrying.

"Fine. There isn't much, but we'll eat tonight," Katniss says, stroking Prim's cheeks and moving to set the bag on the counter.

My mother raises her eyebrows. "I thought you two were expecting a big haul. You were out for three days." She smirks quietly, eyeing my reaction.

I look away from her and ruffle Vicks hair, knowing she assumes we've been on a three-day honeymoon, simply using the multi-day hunt as an excuse to get Prim out of the house. Nothing could be further from the truth.

"The heat has driven all the animals to the mountains," I say, meeting her eyes again.

"Or underground," Katniss interjects.

"So why didn't you go to the mountains?" Vick demands, looking up questioningly.

I walk into the living room with Posy riding my leg. "Too far away. We'd have to take a week to make it that far."

I hear my mother's smile in her voice. "Well, maybe you two will do that before the first frost. We could use a little stockpile to get through the winter."

I close my eyes against the sniggers of Rory on the couch and wonder when he got so good at reading sexual innuendo. This is going to be a long night.

* * *

By dinner time, Ma has figured out that something stands between Katniss and me, but she knows better than to dig in front of the kids. We eat in peace, chatting mindlessly about the school project Prim and Rory have been working on and quizzing Vick on his history lessons.

Halfway through, Posy explodes with a new thought and cries joyfully, "I saw Bwissol today!"

My eyebrows furrow and I send a quizzical look at Ma. "Where'd you see Bristol, Pose?"

"At the house. I opened the door for him!" She grins proudly and wiggles in her seat.

"No way, you opened the door? How'd you do that, Pose? You must be a giant to reach the door knob!"

"Nooooo…" She giggles happily at my enthusiasm despite Rory muttering under his breath, "She's not a baby anymore."

"Rory, that's uncalled for." Ma pierces Rory with a glare, "Bristol Selman stopped by today wondering where you two had gone. Apparently, he called twice at your house but you weren't there."

"What'd he want?" I ask, chewing on the last bites of dinner.

"He didn't say. You know him, he doesn't talk much. But I let him know you'd be back tomorrow."

I nod, "Great. Rory, help me clear the table."

Adhering to the strict code of pubescent males, Rory groans and scrapes his chair back with more force than necessary. He takes his bowl and Vick's, then ignores Prim's place on his way to the sink.

I cuff him when he arrives. "Hey, forgot someone?"

"She's plenty capable of taking her own bowl," he whines dodging my hand.

"That's not why we do it. You always take the lady's plate – it's called chivalry."

I lean over and bow to Prim, "My lady? May I have the honor of clearing your bowl?"

She giggles, tossing waves of gold tendrils into the air as she shakes her head in amusement. Placing her bowl gingerly in my outstretched hand, she plays along, "Thank you very much, dear sir. The honor is all mine."

I grin and turn to Katniss, sobering a bit as I look into her eyes, wary and watchful of my intentions. I outstretch my hand, "My lady?"

She gives a wry little smirk and pushes my hand away, the first we've touched since our fight. "I am perfectly capable of taking my own bowl… dear sir."

I straighten and hold her gaze, "As you wish."

The girls dry while Rory and I wash, and Vick wipes the table. Ma is getting Posy ready for bed, dressing her in Prim's old nightgowns, handed down from Katniss who inherited them from the era of her mother's childhood. Everything lasts in the Seam, excepting food and decency of life.

Posy runs on little girl feet out of the bedroom to grapple my leg.

"Don't go, Gale. I want you to stay here forever."

I bend down and clutch her to my chest, cradling her head against my neck. "I'll see you soon, Pose, I promise. It won't be so long this time."

She starts up a wail, heavy sobs blubbering and plubbing out of her tiny lungs. "N-nooo, I want you to staaaayy…"

I sling her bridal-style in my arms, even though she insists on hiding her face in my shoulder. We collapse on the couch and she pauses in her lamenting as I lean my head back and splay my arms, feigning exhaustion.

"You've worn me out, Pose. I don't think I can go any further. Guess I'll just have to stay here forever and ever."

Posy turns to face me, wrapping her arms around my neck, singing, "Yes, yes, yes! Stay here forever!"

I grab her head, planting kiss after kiss into her silky black hair. I never have to worry about Posy rejecting my love.

The dishes are done and the family meanders into the living room. Rory and Vick trade pebbles and then line them up in rows, seeing who can cause the most damage with a single skittering stone. Katniss and Prim nestle on the other end of the couch. Ma starts spinning rabbit fur into yarn from the comfort of her rocking chair. For a while, everything seems as it was just a few months ago, before Mrs. Everdeen died, before Katniss and I got married, before I moved out of the house and into our own delegated cabin. Before matters were sullied with promises and desires and pride.

We talk of small things: the new boots both boys need, the pantry items to restock before winter, the upcoming weddings after this year's reaping. Posy falls asleep with her ear against my chest, listening to the reverberations of my voice.

"Time for bed I think," I murmur, rising slowly with Posy sprawled in my arms. Katniss strokes Prim's hair absently, looking off into the distance.

Ma stands and places her spinning on the chair. "Time for bed boys. Brush your teeth and don't forget to wash your faces."

"Maaa, we're not five anymore. Leave us alone." Rory fights for his ego in Prim's presence, but willingly drags Vick to their bedroom.

As I lay Posy down, I hear someone slip inside the bedroom and latch the door. A confrontation at last.

"Are you going to tell me what's happened between you and Katniss or do I need to talk to her?"

"Dammit, Ma, it's fine. It's just… We're… working it out. It'll be fine."

"As long as there is something between a husband and a wife, nothing is fine. You'll do well to remember that. Now, I won't have Prim seeing any of this, so is it resolved or do I need to keep Prim another night to let you set things straight?"

"No, its'… we won't be throwing pots and pans at each other. It's not like that. We'll keep it where it belongs."

She cocks her head at me, "Where does it belong, Gale? What is this about?"

I'm glad the darkness hides my flush, thinking about where it belongs. "Nothing, Ma, it's just a quarrel."

She reaches up and rests a hand on my cheek. "I know the man I raised. He's a good man, just like his father. But Katniss is blood of my blood, and if you treat her badly…"

"Of course not, Ma. You know I wouldn't… We just need to figure some things out, is all."

"Good. I'll keep Prim here tonight to let you two resolve the situation and send her home after school tomorrow."

"No, keeping her here will only make things –"

"Better. Trust me."

With one last touch to my cheek, she turns and walks out, shutting the door behind her.

* * *

The walk home is less tense than the walk over, but Katniss seems to be brewing, biting her tongue.

"I'm sorry about Prim. Ma thought it would be best if she stayed there until we… figure things out."

"It's fine. She was asleep anyway."

The dust is cooled already from the day's rays and wanders wantingly into our boots.

"You told her."

I look at the shadows of her face, sharp jaw and prominent nose, eyelashes casting shadows across her cheeks. I shake my head.

"No. But she guessed something was between us. And she's always right, so, it figures…"

Katniss smiles a ghost of a smile, stopping in the light streaming from an open window. Looking up, she breaks my heart a little more.

"Is she right? Is there something between us? For you?"

My hand comes up to run my neck, wringing the tension and dejection from my muscles.

"I don't know, Kat. If you want there to be."

Her face fills with shadows. "Don't say that. That means yes."

I step closer, allowing her to see the ache in my eyes.

"Don't say _that_. That means no."


End file.
